NORMANDY INVASION/ listal.com

Jockey-sized Jimmy “Bud” Thomas passed away in 2007 at age 92. He had long been a cheerful presence at Georgio’s basement pub in Washington DC. Jimmy was forever upbeat, exceptionally modest, spunky, and had no time for bluster. Few of his fellow patrons, however, knew that beneath that weather-worn L.L. Bean jacket beat the heart of a lion. He was in the thick of seven World War II campaigns, including four major invasions: The North African Campaign, 8 November 1942; The Sicilian Campaign, 10 July 1943; The Italian Campaign, 9 September 1943; The Normandy Campaign, 6 June 1944; The Northern France Campaign 22 March 1944; The Rhineland Campaign, 15 September 1944; and The Central Germany Campaign, 22 March 1945. Jimmy, the diminutive nonagenarian, was a charter member of what Tom Brokaw called “The Greatest Generation any society has ever produced."

He had volunteered for the peace-time (fish-bowl) draft in early 1941. While refereeing a game that fall, he was struck in the whistle by an errant basketball, knocking out prime teeth, instantly disqualifying him for service. Then along came Pearl Harbor. America suddenly needed bodies. Missing teeth, flat feet, knock-knees, bow legs, moronic IQs, obesity, vertical challenges, full social calendars, etc., were, within reason, no longer bars to military service. Jimmy’s 4-F status evaporated. He was soon inducted into the Army, and in February 1942, found himself on a troop train leaving Porterville, California bound for basic training at Camp Robinson, Arkansas. He recalls an incident which gives us a snapshot of that time. The train stopped “Somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico” and “They took all the black guys off,” presumably to re-board a “separate but equal” conveyance nearby. Jimmy never learned their fate, but reckons they may well have ended up with many other Afro-Americans driving Red Ball Express trucks in World War II.

Camp Robinson proved to be a 3-month “rough ol’ deal." A war was on. Basic Training took no prisoners. Jimmy qualified with the M-1, BAR, Carbine, 50 Caliber Machine Gun, and learned how to man the just-introduced bazooka. Having a first-class disposition and being a crackerjack poker player sailed him through Basic without the obligatory grousing.

Jim was among the freshly-minted basic training grads selected to join a newly activated (June 15 1942) third Battalion of the 531st Engineer Shore Regiment at Camp Edwards, Mass. The Battalion was part of the First Engineer Amphibious Brigade which was the first formed under the Engineer Amphibian Command. Their distinctive patch displayed a winged eagle atop a horizontal Tommy gun, imposed on an anchor, all in maize, with a navy blue background. Training at Camp Edwards made basic feel like a day at the ballpark. “Everyone had to learn to swim” he recalls. No problem there. He had been on his high school swim team, but other guys damn well learned or “washed out.”

On August 6 1942, the unit sailed from Staten Island, arriving in Belfast on August 1, and then preceded by train to Ballycarry, Ireland for further training and reorganizing. On September 23, the battalion moved to Toward Castle, Scotland for training with British Amphibious troops. They practiced beach landings ad nauseam, carried logs in four–man teams, and climbed rope ladders with full 60-lbs. packs, losing some less coordinated troopers during the exercises.

Jimmy then spent 30 days at sea on the British ship, Warwick Castle, passing up the tripe, savoring only the fish (mackerel) and on-board-baked bread from the bare-bones Royal Navy rations. He had won circa $900 in poker games on the way over, and became the key man in negotiations for the overpowering 150 proof rum the Brits were allowed.

It was now show time! The Third Battalion of the 531st was then attached to the First Infantry Division. As part of the Western Task Force, it sailed out of Scotland in the largest convoy ever assembled to that point (Operation “Torch”), to invade North Africa. That early D-Day was November 8 1942. Jimmy’s unit landed at H-Hour at Arzew, Algeria (near Oran), under enemy shell fire. The battle of Arzew ended in two days with only token resistance to a final American victory. The greatest threat to the unit had been friendly fire, which claimed two of Jimmy’s mates. Then the donkey work began. For months the battalion handled supplies, carried out field engineering and construction work at Arzew, Perregaux, Relizane and Damense, on or near the Algerian coast. They set up permanent bivouac, built roads and an airfield running massive steamrollers over hot oil and rocks under a relentless North African sun.

But all was not drudgery. The Germans had left several hundred 500-gallon barrels of Algerian wine on the docks at Arzew. Short of petrol, they had intended to extract the alcohol to fuel military vehicles and aircraft. That actually worked. But the Hun was now on the run and everyone knew that consignment would not be picked up. Defying a heavy guard, two massive barrels unaccountably left the docks and secreted themselves in a seaside cliff near the bivouac. To hear Jimmy tell it, “We were going fine, having a grand ol’ time...but the officers were wondering why we were drunk all the time!” On the saddest day of the Campaign, two splendid oak barrels of Algerian red were located by the brass, wrested from the cliffside, and rolled into the Mediterranean, all too soon to vanish beneath the waves.

It was there doing training for the Sicily invasion that Pfc Thomas learned to drive the amphibious landing craft, DUKWS (pronounced “Ducks”). D = Built in 1942, U = Amphibious 2 &1/2 ton truck, K=Front wheel drive, W=Rear wheel drive. Ducks could move over 300 gallons of water per minute, climb a 60 degree grade, broach 18 inch obstacles, range 220 miles on land and 50 on water. They carried up to 25 fully equipped troops, and accommodated 5,350 lbs. A naval architect boasted, “She’s not very fast, but she’s better in the water than any truck and she’ll beat any boat on the highway.” Operating DUKWS required a feather touch, which Jimmy possessed. “We had to back those guys out of large ships very carefully….foot on the break all the way…couldn’t touch the clutch, that'd lose compression and you would sink.”

Sicily had no ports, so men and materiel had to be brought in by Duck. They landed at Gela July 10 1943 under enemy shell fire. Jimmy’s DUKW took a hit of shrapnel which opened a gaping hole above the gas tank, but mercifully overshot everything vital. He didn’t miss a beat, although other folks took casualties. The battalion cleared the beach, and remained there for approximately two months. Three memories stand out in Jim’s Sicily experience. He witnessed the U.S. Rangers capture a small pillbox-like fortification manned by Italians, who, it turned out, were all asleep. Another nest was defended by anachronistic World War I artillery pieces. A GI dropped incendiary bombs (“looked like cans of beer”) down the barrels (that crew may have also been in the arms of Morpheus) blowing the breeches through the rear wall.

The second event was the majestic arrival of General George S. Patton, Jr. one blazing July afternoon. He showed up unannounced on the beach, presumably having walked on water to get there. The men had been permitted to work in the Mediterranean heat without shirts, which seemed to ignite a hidden fury deep within the good general. “Himself was standin’ not four feet from me, them two pearl-handled pistols on his sides, spit-shined jack boots, and a helmet so polished you could shave from it…” “’Who’s in charge of this detail?’ he hollered. Seemed like a full minute before our sergeant said I am, sir. ’” “’Get these goddamn troops in uniform!’ Patton yelled. That was it. Our guys finished the whole damn war with their shirts on.”

Later in July, Pfc Thomas stood on a hill overlooking the beach and the US Navy a mile or so offshore. The high ground also allowed an inland view of several miles where he suddenly caught sight of “five or six Tiger Tanks bustin’ through our lines and heading toward the beach. The 88 guns were fierce. You knew if you heard the incoming shell whistle over your head , you were safe. It’s when you didn’t hear the whistle you had to worry.” Jimmy had a front row panorama view of the drama unfolding. It was something akin to Washington society turning out for a picnic on a Virginia hilltop to watch the First Battle of Bull Run/Manassas. “There was a ridge. The ships couldn’t see the tanks and the tanks couldn’t see the ships. There were three of our piper cubs flying around giving instructions to the navy boys about where the tanks were. The ships were rolling around, and I still don’t how the hell they set them big guns. But sure enough, you'd see an explosion a hundred yards ahead of a tank, then fifty yards behind, then right on. We got’em all.”

At the close of the Sicilian Campaign the 531st Shore Regiment returned to Algeria to prepare for the Italian mainland invasion.

On September 9, attached to the 36th US Infantry Division, the unit landed in Italy at Paestum, near Salerno. This was heavy stuff. The Americans encountered fierce enemy fire and hellish mine fields. William Stoneman, an “embedded” reporter for the Chicago Daily News wrote, “Heroes appeared right and left during the Allied landing on the Salerno Beach-head, but the greatest feat of collective heroism we have witnessed has been that of the Amphibious Engineers. Other troops have been able to concentrate on defending ourselves and destroying the enemy, and they have been able to take cover. The Amphibious Engineers were the first ashore and had the nasty job of removing enemy mines. Since then, it has been their unwholesome task to man the beaches shifting thousands of tons of equipment from landing craft to dumps. During the first day they were working under constant enemy shell fire and strafing attacks. Since then, they have been exposed to constant threat of attacks by day and night, working tirelessly, and they have been submitted to repeated heavy attacks by German bombers. While other soldiers were able to dive into convenient foxholes, the engineers have been right out there in the open and many have died, not only with their boots on, but in actual course of work. Despite all this, they have established a record for shifting cargo, building roads, and making it possible for our beachhead to become solidly established. They have established a record for guts which those who watched them will never forget.” Enemy fire prevented DUKWS from landing by daylight. Once ashore by night, Jimmy’s unit was pinned down flat on their stomachs and in foxholes for three days. Good men lay wounded or dead around him. They lost 1/3 of the platoon. Pfc Johnny Bates was the company commander’s driver. His jeep struck a land mine, and as Jimmy witnessed, “Johnny was OK, but the commander was blown in two”.

Eventually DUKWS were able to land reinforcements on “Red Beach." With naval support, the battalion turned back several enemy tank counter-attacks. On “D” plus four, they took up defensive positions south and southeast of the Salerno beachhead, their mission being to demolish and defend strategic bridges and roads. On September 15 1943, 1st Lt. Francis Runnfeldt, on patrol with G Company, became the first officer of the Fifth Army to hook up with elements of the British 8th Army. Allied forces advanced, the battalion moved inland, guarding bridges and roads. The centerpiece of this effort was constructing a 266-foot timber bridge over the Volturno River under intense enemy fire. The Germans later blasted it to smithereens, but only after it had gotten hundreds of GI's and tons of materiel across..

On November 18 1943 the 531st was withdrawn from Italy and sent to Truro, England to train hard for another landing somewhere on the continent.

D-Day, June 6 1944, was indeed “The Longest Day." The battalion, as part of the First U.S. Army, landed on Tare Green Beach, Utah Sector, near St. Marie Eglise, Normandy, France. As with Salerno, they landed under heavy fire and encountered extensive minefields. A Massachusetts newspaper reported, “Despite heroic efforts of combat troops involved, the crucial D-Day battle for the beaches might well have been lost had it not been for a small group of unsung invasion specialists who scarcely fired a shot—the bull dozer operators, cranemen, mechanics, etc. of the Engineer Special Brigades. Long practice in amphibious work had made them skillful ‘sons of beaches.’” The Infantry on D-Day morning was pinned down by 88s, unable to advance inland. Their vehicles had to be brought ashore and roads blasted for them through a concrete sea wall, ten roads per battalion, and there were beaucoup battalions. “One company lost all its equipment before it even hit the sand, “ said Capt. G.T. Bissett, a company commander from Texas. “Another lost half its stuff. But the ones that got in started clearing the roadways and pulling drowned vehicles from the surf. Sometimes dozers worked in five feet of water. They pulled out literally acres of jeeps, trucks, and other vehicles.” Capt. R.C. Griffin recalled, “Aside from the Germans, a tough problem was the tide. The tide came in at a rate of six feet a minute. Given time, it would roll vehicles into balls of twisted metal.”

A beachhead was finally established at considerable cost. The battalion painstakingly swept mine fields, made beach roads, and began unloading ship cargoes in DUKWS. The “Buckeye Clipper” cranes had erratic vacuum-controlled booms, yet another contraption requiring a feather touch to operate. Endowed with such a touch, Jimmy became a crane operator. He lifted cargo, a ton at a time, from the ducks onto duce and a half trucks, working around the clock in 12-hour shifts, under fire. Cranes handled Over 200,000 tons of cargo. They unloaded one vehicle for every six men who crossed the beach. The tonnage to be unloaded was estimated before D-Day was greater than the total freight received in all the ports of the United Kingdom for one year. Jimmy had never seen or imagined so much hardware. It spread beyond the curvature of the earth. “I know how we won the war,” he mused. “We were using the Grand Coulee Dam to put out a fire four-foot square.”

The 531st was redesignated as the 3053rd Engineer Combat Battalion in August 1944. The battalion moved forward to join the Ninth US Army, arriving in Maastricht, Holland November 21 1944. They prepared amphibious operations over the Roer River near Aachen, Germany, maintaining roads and bridges while on the right flank of the Batttle of the Bulge. They constructed an important timber bridge across the flooded Maas River, and a 424 foot Pier supported Bridge across the Albert Canal in Belgium, the largest of this type in the European Theater of Operations.

VE-Day found Pfc Thomas in Witzenhausen, Central Germany, with many another GI, in direct violation of the Army’s non-fraternization standing order. Woodsy rendezvous with voluptuous German ladies seemed like a good idea at the time. Who was he to reject such a good idea? “Those blue-eyed Fräuleins were somethin’ else”, he impishly recalls. Is there a better way to wind up a hellish war?

Whether Jimmy killed anyone in battle is not important, and he won’t say. He won his share of medals; The French Croix de Guerre with Palm, The Bronze Star, seven Battle Stars, and six Overseas Combat Ribbons, but “didn’t want any rank.”. He was in fact “busted a couple of times," once for going AWOL and hitch-hiking a ride with the Red Ball Express to a high time in Paris while fighting was still raging. His is not an Audie Murphy or Sergeant York resume.

But Jimmy “Bud” Thomas was a hero. His team of engineers used its skill to advance our army on a manically determined enemy. His unit was first ashore under extreme fire, usually too busy clearing beaches and sweeping mines to fight back. Men died around him at Salerno, Utah Beach, and in Germany. He was there for us. As Cole Porter would have it, he “didn’t complain, didn’t explain." There was nothing small about this man’s heart.

This artricle originally appeared in Continentaldivide.us in May 2007.